The World Through A New Set of Eyes
by Ankha
Summary: Two secrets: both will change the lives of countless wizards, including one 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Can they stand proudly to the change? Or will it break them? The world falls apart around you, who do you turn to? The one you love most.....
1. Default Chapter

**A/N:** If I start this now, I'm sealing my own fate. The problem is I know this but I'm going to write anyway. *sighs* Anything to get rid of this writer's block on Gold and Silver, Fire and Ice. I know what's supposed to happen, I'm just having a little trouble writing it. *sighs again* I look at the book I write in and I run in the other direction. If my friends kill me it's my own fault, oh well. On to the story!

Remember: Peace, Love and be a Marauder! I mean, why wouldn't you be? (I'm including Sev in that statement)

Disclaimer: No, sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. The concept was sort of borrowed from Severitus (especially what's going to happen later plus the fact I'm planning on twisting it way out of proportion) and from Jazz, who I wish would finish his/her story "The Severus He Saved" which is quite excellent I suggest you read it. The only thing I own in this chapter are Harry's interesting abilities and Octavian.

**The World Through a New Set of Eyes**

_Chapter 1- I Didn't Know or The Surprises Are Only Beginning_

At number four Privet Drive, where the residents would tell you they were quite normal thank you, lived a not so normal boy. His, and I use this term loosely, 'family' consisted of a bony, horse-faced aunt, a beefy, purple-faced uncle, and a whale-like cousin who ate his own weight in food everyday. All were perfectly normal, led normal lives and did normal things; though they had a secret, one they were sure would ruin them if it were to ever be revealed. The 'secret' was at the moment upstairs in Dudley's second bedroom, trying desperately to focus on his homework while ignoring his fatigue and the pain that flaired through his back at any sudden movements. Harry sighed and once again pushed a long black lock of hair behind his ear. Since the end of the Triwizard Tournament his body had subtly begun to change. Even with the meager rations he was being served he'd shot up. He was no longer the 'midget with glasses' but a teenager of six feet tall. That he'd ever reached that height amazed him. Not only had his height changed but others parts of him as well. His shoulders had broadened and he'd put on quite a bit of mucsle. This he attributed to the chores he was being forced to do night and day. His face had thinned out, his features becoming more accented; though the constant circles under his eyes made him seem more dead than alive at times. He put that down under the lack of food and proper sleep, though sometimes his eyes weren't black because of lack of sleep. His hair had been the first sign of change. You tend to notice when it grows several inches over night. Though he had no explanation for it, he didn't mind, not one bit. It was easy to tie back now. His glasses had been snapped in half by Vernon's fist the moment he'd gotten 'home'. When he'd awoken many painful hours later he'd discovered he didn't need them anymore; his vision was perfect; which was good, he could see to do his chores. The Dursleys thought it funny that he didn't have them. They didn't know he didn't need them. If they had watched and paid attention to his movements around the house, the fact that he didn't stumble or grope for anything, they would have noticed this. But they didn't. Bunch of unobservant idiots. Harry sighed and sat the potions essay aside, too tired to focus properly. Not surprising since he had mowed the lawn, cleaned out the garage, painted the garage door and scrubbed the kitchen floor. He was supposed to have washed the windows, inside and out, but there simply hadn't been enough time. He knew it wasn't humanly possible to do all of this; there just weren't enough hours in the day. The Dursleys, however, didn't acknowledge this fact and had given Harry a sound thrashing for being too slow. This hadn't been the first time, not by a long shot. Everything Harry did was wrong to them. He bet that if he saved their lives, Vernon would still find some way to complain about the way he had done it. He, of course, didn't know how right he was.

***

(Severus's point of view (which will be entirely in italics) )

_I haul my pathetic body to its feet before stumbling over and kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes. My 'master' has just completed a wonderful five hour torture fest of his Death Eaters. Wonderful for him, not for me. Not that I was alone, I was one of ten that the Dark Lord had decided to have his fun with (A/N: No Gil-Celeb, not THAT, just good old fashioned torturing so don't worry). It was all to see if we were still loyal of course. Into the third hour, two had admitted to giving information to the Ministry. I knew both, and knew they were lying. Not surprising, they had only wanted the torture to end. It had, with Voldemort's Killing Curse. I had only been allowed a moment of coherency to send a silent prayer to the families of the two. Didn't Riddle ever wonder about the people left behind after he was through? After he had killed? Probably reveled in the pain he caused. Sadistic, pyscopathic bastard. _

The rest of us had endured another two hours of bouncing off gravestones, endless shouts of "Crucio!" and physical abuse from other Death Eaters that had already proven their loyalty. In the end Voldemort had been satisfied he had weeded out those unloyal to him. How ironic. I'm not loyal, yet I survived. As I turn to leave, my thought drift to Hogwarts, my home. It's hard to think anyone would believe that a school to be their home, yet I do. But can you blame me, honestly blame me for thinking that of the only place that I ever felt I'd belonged? I didn't think so. Hogwarts was more than just a school to me, it was a symbol of hope; as was its headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. That such a man as Albus even exists is a constant amazement to me. He stands proud and tall (he's taller than me in fact), white beard and hair giving off a luminescent glow as they fell in curls to his waist. Those cerulean blue eyes were always alight with a twinkle that not even the darkest of situations could put out. Dim, yes. Put out, no. Monumental difference. The wrinkles that crease his ancient face are mostly from laughter. Some are from hardship (I always had a feeling that his past was worse than mine), some from age, but mostly from laughter. He is the wizarding world's beacon of hope and light. 

Does anyone sense a bit of heroworship? I thought so. I guess I do heroworship Albus a bit (okay, more than a bit but I would never admit it aloud). Why, I'm not really sure. Maybe it's that unwavering trust he places within me. That was something I always wondered about; why did he? Did he sense some inate drive to do good inside me? Now that I have to laugh at. Me, do good? Hardly. I'm a bastard in every sense of the word. Yet.....there's always that inkling of doubt. Why does he trust me?

I remember back about six years ago, the year before Harry and his gang started school, and Albus became sick. At first he thought nothing of it, as did we. Who would think much of a slight cough? The only problem with that "slight cough" was that it kept getting worse. So much so that we feared that we would lose him. When Pomfrey had tried to treat him, emphasize on the word tried_, he had refused to let her. He steadily worsened but demanded that I, Severus, take care of him. I did, but half the time I was at a loss for what to do. But gradually, under my bumbling care, he grew well. I don't know how, I really didn't do anything. I stayed with him every night by his sick bed, holding his hand. He got better. I don't know how, but he swears I did it. He proclaimed loudly to the staff that I had helped him, but I don't think I did. I didn't _do_ anything for Merlin's sake! He told me, when we were playing chess one day, that just having me around had made him better. I don't understand, but he seems to, so I left it at that._

All of this is not to say we didn't argue, we did. The worst were about my treatment of the students, Potter in particular. We shouted, threatened but in the end we compromised (I gave in). Usually our arguements are academic in nature, and those are the best; a lot of fun. It's nice to have an intelligent_ conversation with someone._

Speaking of Potter.....Albus had once been brave enough to ask why_ I treated him so badly. In fact, it was the day before the closing feast of the previous school year. I guess he was afraid that I would bite his head off, with good reason of course. I had sneered, claiming that only a Gryffindor would have the courage to ask such a question. Then, of course, I received the shock of my life when he'd laughed and said he hadn't been a Gryffindor, but a Slytherin. I'm sure I looked like a fish, gaping at him like that but can you blame me? Hardly; everyone _knows_ that Albus Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor and here he was, telling me he had been a Slytherin. It was rather hard to chew. So he'd unearthed his old school robes and there had been the proof in front of me. Even with that, it was hard to even _fathom_; so I asked what his great ambition was. (As you will remember, that is what the Slytherin house is known for, its great ambitions.) He'd smiled a bit and said to rid the world of as much evil as possible and maintain peace. A noble ambition that one, unlike most of the ambitions of my house. He'd said the Sorting Hat had argued with itself for a good thirty minutes before finally deciding to put him where it had. _

Then he'd claimed I was stalling and trying to put them off the track. He was right, as always, and I'd finally gave in. I told him the deepest, darkest secret of my life. It had shocked him I think, for only a moment before he asked the possibility that Harry might be.....I had denied it straight out. How could he? He resembled James Potter so much the two might have passed for twins. the possibility that he could be....mine.....was out of the question. Had I actually ever tested that theory, no, but why should I? Albus had persisted and I'd finally gave in. The test was performed that night with a bit of his bloody robes that Pomfrey had saved. The Headmaster had hovered over me the entire time the potion was brewing and when he wasn't doing that he was pacing back and forth the length and breadth of the room. You would think he was more nervous that I. Perhaps that had been because I had been so certain of the outcome. That is also perhaps why I had fainted when I had seen the results.

How, how could he be mine? It had only been one time, but then again, once was enough. I hadn't wanted it to happen but there was nothing I could have done. Voldemort had ordered the capture of Muggle-born witches, specific ones, known for their talents in different fields. Lily had been among those taken. She and I were very good friends through school and I had always been a bit jealous of James that he was able to date her. See, Lily did not view me in that way. We were just friends, and I was willing to leave it at that. Eventually, my feelings changed to more of a brother like fashion as her only sibling was her sister Petunia, whom I had the unfortunate opportunity to meet once. A face to scare a hag and a voice to outmatch any banshee that one. So when Lily was captured, I chose her to come with me. The Dark Lord had wanted use the women to produce children for him, ones that he would raise and train. They would be souless, mindless killing machines by the time he was through. I knew what the others would do to the women and I could not let that fate befall Lily. Under the great risk of exposing my position as a spy, I revealed myself to her and explained the situation. Lily, God rest her soul, agreed to.....ahem....well, let me put it this way: she agreed to maintain my charade as a Death Eater. If you can't figure out what happened I'm certainly not going to tell you. Any bumbling idiot ought to be able to since Harry came nine months later. Harry.....why didn't I think? Why didn't I count the months and realize what had happened? He could have been with me, he could have been my son. I could have had a son. That is perhaps why I was so hateful to the boy. I was jealous that he had been James's son and not my own. But now.....what am I to do? Why, how, did Harry, my son, look so much like James Potter? A question that was pondered after I had regained consciousness in the Headmaster's office. He'd pressed a cup of hot tea into my hands and asked, with the utmost concern, if I was alright. I think I stuttered out a yes, I can't really remember. It was around then that he reminded me that Lily had been as masterful in Charms as Fredrick Flitwick. Upon seeing that I was shaking like mad he'd sat down beside me and opened his arms. I'll admit it, I'm not ashamed, I ran straight to him like a small child to a parent. That's how I view our relationship, as a father (Albus) and child (me). He had rocked me and assured me that all would be well. 

"Would it?" I had demanded bitterly. Those all-knowing orbs had arrested me in their intense gaze. 

"It will child, it will."

***

Right now that is where I want to be, at Hogwarts with Albus. Albus would always take care of me, and I him. I'd promised myself that a long time ago. That is a promise I never intend to break.

Just as I reach the last row of gravestones, Voldemort calls me back. Damn him, hasn't he done enough already? Reluctantly I turn and trudge back to find that I am not alone. The Death Eaters were gathered around a large map, how strange. What was going on?

"Alright my servants, we are going to have a fun tonight with a bit of Muggle torture." Good Lord, more torturing? Couldn't this man find a less destructive and less painful hobby? Knitting, for example, would be good.

"The destination for tonight is Privet Drive (A/N: Okay, let us assume that Voldemort doesn't know that's where Harry lives, otherwise this won't work. Okay? Good.). You will divide into groups of ten and attack all of the homes simoltanously. Dobson you have one, Gracia two, Avery three, Malfoy four...." That would be my destination. Malfoy has been ordered to keep an eye on me to make sure I'm a loyal Death Eater. Fat lot that litte unobservent bastard will see. I have not been a spy and survived this long without being good at it. The assignments are dealt quickly and we prepare to apparate.

***

The house we appear in front of is typically Muggle. There is something special about this house that I should remember, but at the moment it escpaes me. The door opens with a simple 'alohomora' and we file in one at a time. The muggles have the television playing so loud they weren't aware we had entered until we had surrouned them. The blonde, horse-faced woman let out a scream that would have put a banshee to shame and jumped from her seat. She was immediately grabbed by the closest two Death Eaters and the males, not given a chance to react, are sent flying into the air. I watched dispassionately as the men (though one is a boy about Harry's age) were spun and thrown around the room. The older man, obviously the father, was yelling obsenities until someone shut him up with a silencing spell. The man's an amatuer; when I yell, usually I can strip the paint right off the wall. A faint padding of feet reach my ears and I turn ever so slightly. My heart freezes. Now_ I remember why this house is so important._

***

The sound of Aunt Petunia's screams echoing through the house jolted him awake. He glanced at the clock: 8:30, he hadn't been asleep that long. Ignoring the protests of his muscles he jumped to his feet, grabbing his wand from the inside of one of the drawers and raced downstairs. What he found was a disastor. Vernon and Dudley were floating in the air. Petunia was sobbing, struggling fruitlessly against the grip of her captors. The Death Eaters laughed as they set Vernon to spinning like a top, his bobbing head coming dangerously close to the ceiling. Petunia shrieked again, making them laugh harder. Harry'd had enough.

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!!!" he bellowed. Silence fell over the house at once. As one, the Death Eaters turned, their white, expressionless masks flickering in the light of the television. Vernon and Dudley crumple to the floor as the spell was terminated and Petunia, released from her captors, rushed to them, still sobbing. 

"Potter," one growled, raising his wand. Harry was prepared.

"Inpedimenta! Expellerimus!" A few were able to block the first and some the second but none both. Several wands flew to him as he ducked behind the couch. After throwing another Inpediment curse over the sofa's top he placed the wands before him and hit them with the strongest burning spell he knew. They instantly ignited. Deciding he'd stayed in one place for far too long he sprang, casting a particularly nasty cuse that would make one sprout extra limbs (while causing terrific pain in the process). He smiled grimly at the howls of pain and crouched behind an armchair. He peeked over the arm to access the situation. Ten Death Eaters, four wandless and two were writhing on the ground from the effects of his curse. That still left four. Bloody wonderully. Wanting to retain his element of confusion he had caused, he stood and sent a barrage of stupefying spells. The disarmed ones stood no chance and it caught another one square in chest but the other three were able to move out of the way.

***

_Harry paused a moment at the bottom of the stairs, fury working over his expression. _

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!!!" he bellowed. We turn, as one, to face him. My mind is racing to come up with a plan to protect him. Surprised? He is_ my _son_ after all, even if I doubt I'll ever tell him. It is my duty to protect him. Before I can do anything however, he springs into action, hurling two curses in our direction. I manage to block the disarming spell but not the inpediment. As I struggle, I watch him catch the wands and set them blazing. Is he mad? Doesn't he know what will happen when the flames reach the magical cores? Apparently not, otherwise he would not have done it. After I threw off the inpediment I watch as Harry launches another battery of rather nasty curses. The ones it hits scream in agony as they gain extra limbs. Hmmmm......I'll have to remember that one. His next curse is stupefy which I easily weave around. Though it takes down the ones that do not have their wands and one that did. That left Malfoy, one Death Eater I didn't know, and me. Against one "Boy-Who-Lived". Why do I get the feeling the odds are in his favor?_

***

'I really need to work on my aim,' Harry thought as he went to duck back down. It was a fraction too late as two curses surged toward him. He was able to fend off one but the other slammed into his stomach, throwing him against the fireplace. He grunted from the impact and slid to the floor. He tried to ignore the screaming pain from his abused back and opened his eyes to see two dark figures approaching.

"Valient effort I must say Potter," It could have only been the elder Malfoy, "Pity it was for nothing." A wand rose. "Now for a bit of retribution for my Death Eater brethren. Crucio!" Harry squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to prepar for the pain. It never came. Harry's eyes snapped open to see a large figure, the third Death Eater, convulsing in a manner that spoke of the Unforgivable curse. The teenager reached for the man but before he could even get within a fingerlength of him, his mask fell away. It was Snape.

***

_Malfoy catches a lucky break and slams Harry against the wall. I wince behind my mask sympathetically. I understand what he's going through. If you will remember I spent the entire day becoming intimately aquainted with various tombstones. The day's events flood back to haunt me at the most inopportune moment and I'm frozen to my spot. Malfoy and the other Death Eater have no such restraints and commence towards their intended victim. Malfoy's voice snapped me back to reality and I foresaw what was about to happen. Without even a thought to _my_ safety, I darted in front of Harry as Malfoy yelled 'Crucio!' A grim sort of satisfaction follows me into the darkness. At least this is a start to my repentence._

***

(Harry's point of view (which will be in bold) )

**Snape went limp in my arms as the curse died away. I pull him close and call his ear repeatedly but no response was forthcoming. I was dimly aware of Lucius Malfoy swearing colorfully under his breath, which drew my attention back to them. **

"That double-crossing son-of-a-bitch! I knew he wasn't to be trusted. I'll just take care of him now." He raises his wand again and points it at the fallen man's heart. "Avada Ked-" At that moment, two things explode violently. The wands I had set ablaze behind me, and my temper. As the raw magical energy surged forth I summon it to me. My palms grew warm as the enormous power circle them. By Malfoy's expression, I have suffiecently scared him. Time then, to up the anty. I strip back the Potions Master's left sleeve, my hand hovering centimeters from the Dark Mark. Silver-grey eyes lock with my own emerald green as I give him a sinister smile.

"Say hello to Voldemort for me," I whisper before clamping my hand around the evil symbol.

(End of Harry's point of view)

***

A tremendous boom shook the house to its very foundations. The Death Eaters in the house, and every house surrounding, vanished so abruptly that it seemed as though they had never existed in the first place. Harry slumped over the man's body and panted. With a silent groan he sat back up and shook the prostrate man once more. 

"Professor?" his voice cracked like eggshells. There was no response. Takin up his wand he pointed it at the man's chest.

"Enervate." Severus only groaned but did not wake. Sighing resolutely he stood and picked the other up, surprising himself by the feat. With a glance in his aunt's direction to be certain they would survive, he stumbled up the stairs. Ten minutes of strenous labor later, he made it to his bedroom. He laid the professor on the floor and quickly tidied his bed coverings before levitating him onto the matress. It was fruitless to attempt to lift him again so he used magic. Though, he promised himself, he wouldn't use it anymore. He was positive the Ministry of Magic would be there any moment and he didn't want to be expelled. Though how they could do that with someone who was only trying to protect themselves was beyond him. He didn't think they could, but he wouldn't put it past them. He'd developed a deep distrust for the Ministry ever since they had falsly imprisoned Hagrid in his second year. Their actions in the following years had only cemented that feeling. Oh yes, there were some you could trust within there, Arthur and Percy for example, but Harry sensed corruption, like a bruise on a tomato it would only grow. The feeling also suggested it began from high up, may be even with the Minister of Magic himself.

Harry shook himself from his thoughts. This was not time to be contemplating military coups, Snape needed his help. First order of business was to discover why he would not wake. Sitting beside him, he placed two fingers lightly at either temple and began a scan. During the last weeks of the following year he'd discovered an interesting, and useful new talent. He had the gift of healing. Uncertain how he had come by this he'd let Hermione and Ron in on the secret. The bushy headed girl had immediately aquired several books for him to read on the subject and even Ron had provided a few as well. From then on, any spare time he'd had he'd put to good use by reading. A fascinating and delicate field of study. One had to possess nerves of the finest steel in order to perform the operation he'd read about that had been performed by Healer-surgeons. One particularly interesting point in being a healer was being able to perform a body scan. It allowed the healer to view all internal organ, bodily functions, and brain activity. The human body was like a symphony orchestra; its functions all worked in harmony. Even the smallest of problems would cause discord. This was the first time he'd ever performed a scan on anyone before and he didn't know what to expect.

He was not prepared for the deafening screams of torn muscles, the pounding of bruises and resonant crash of the Cruciatus curse. He jerked away, too far away, and landed on the floor. The 'sympathy pains' if you will, lingered for a moment before fading. Harry sat on the floor, dazed by the sensory reception overload. Taking a deep breath, he hauled himself to his feet and back on the bed. Carefully he began removing the man's clothes. If what he'd sensed was anything close to the truth, he had his work cut out for him. The heavy outer cloak and robe gone, the student began to remove the shirt. What it left behind was worse than he could have ever imagined. Fighting the urge to look away he clinically began to examine the damage. The bruises discolored the pale skin to the point that it was difficult to discern the true color. Deep cuts cris-crossed one another over the chest and oozed blood. The man's right arm twitched as well as his right leg. With the bruises as they were, massaging that twitch away was out of the question. It would only add to the damage, not to mention be painful. As he continued to stare, a vague horror passed through him. What could have possibly caused so much damage to his Professor? Was it Voldemort's work? At that thought, his eyes drifted towards the man's left arm. To his surprise, the Dark Mark had vanished. He ran a thumb over the area and could feel the heat of recent magic, his magic. Could he be the cause of its disappearence?

It was....a possibility, and one to be thought of later. Rising from the bed he grabbed the box of matches and began a fire under his cauldron. He would need to dress those wounds before they became infected. Since he had no sterile gauze to use and he didn't know where the Dursleys kept their first aid kit, he would have to improvise. Seeing that the water in the pewter cauldron was steadily warming he took one of his bedsheets and methodically began to rip it. They would not be the best bandages in the world, but they would have to do. Seeing the water was now boiling happily he tossed them in. Not the best sterilization job in the world but was the best _he_ could do. Leaving the cauldron, he slithered under the bed to the loose floorboard. He kept all of his ready made potions (thank God he had some) here. Pulling out several bottles he sat them on the night stand and uncorked one. The substance was as thick as lotion in his hands as he rubbed it over the numerous lacerations. He'd cleaned the blood away earlier and glad of it. Once that was done he evaporated the water in the cauldron and removed the strips. There was no way to get around using magic, not if he was going to help his teacher. Raising the man to a sitting position he gently wrapped the clean bandages around the damaged flesh. Leaving him sitting he grabbed another bottle from the table. Pulling the man's mouth open he tipped the contents inside while simeltanously stroking the throat to induce swallowing. Snape choked and sputtered but managed to take in the majority of the simple healing draft. Harry dared not risk anything else, not until he knew more. Easing the man to lay back down, he covered him lightly so as not cause discomfort.

Now it was time to take care of himself. Rifling through the closet he found Dudley's old but never used sleeping bag. Rolling that out beside the bed (and between the door) he made it as comfortable as possible before going about his normal night routine. Hedwig, who had been watching silently, hooted gratefully as Harry placed her dose of medicine inside her cage. 

"You'll have to get better soon girl, I'm going to need you to go to Hogwarts since it seems as though the Ministry's not coming." True, it had been several hours since the battle with the Death Eaters and no one had come. If they hadn't by now, he figured, they wouldn't at all. 

"Don't worry about dinner, I'm sure Octavian will be back soon." A hiss flowed from the window. "And there he is now." The snake slithered its way towards the two and laid his prize, a fat dead rat, before the bird cage.

#Dinner is served,# he hissed playfully. Harry smiled and placed the rat inside the cage. The owl gobbled it down greedily after giving the snake her thanks. Octavian, or Tave, was a new friend of Harry's that had attached himself to the boy ever since Harry had rescued him from a bird. He was albino, skin devoid of all color. The only color he possessed were in his eyes which were coal black. Harry was eternally grateful for having him around, not only to talk to but to catch Hedwig's dinner. The owl had been poisoned by Dudley at the beginning of the summer, two weeks before, and she was only now regaining her appetite and strength. As well as she looked, Harry knew he could not risk her on a flight to the school for at least another week. That meant he was on his own with Snape for a week. He only hoped his uncle was too sick from the attack to do anything about it. With Tave wrapped around his wrist he moved to his make-shift bed on the floor.

#Who is the man, young master?# the snake asked as Harry laid down. 

#One of my professors, Severus Snape.# The reptile's tongue flicked in the man's direction. 

#He is very sick, young master, is there anything you can do for him?#

#I've done all I can right now, all ne needs is time.# The young snake hissed in understanding and laid himself to sleep. Harry placed his wand and the professor's within an arm's reach in case he needed them. He only hoped he wouldn't.

***

Voldemort sat musing over a large map. Everything was going perfectly, if only he could get his hands on that Potter brat. But, there was no need to rush, he would get him in due time. He didn't want to kill him, oh no, what he planned to do with him was much more useful than his death would ever be. Only time would be necessary. Suddenly a golden light appeared above him. He watched as it expanded then collapsed with a sudden and resounding 'boom!'. His Death Eaters, the one's he'd sent to Privet Drive, fell to the ground uncermoniously. He went to the one closest and hauled him to his feet.

"What happened?" He demanded. The Death Eater coughed before answering.

"Potter sir," It was Malfoy, "He and Snape, Snape's a traitor." Voldemort let the man drop in disgust.

"Potter," he growled, "I will get you, mark my words. You are mine." 

***End of chapter 1***

**A/N:** Well, what do you think? It's a different approach to my other story, Gold and Silver, Fire and Ice. In that one, Harry is not Severus's son. And Severus is not....wait, I can't tell that, that would ruin part of the story. If you read my other story, don't fret, I haven't given up on it. This is just to clear my brain of it for a while so I can write on it again. Anyways....hope you like it! If you do, I'll continue it. I do have the next chapter sort of planned out but after that I'm a fish out of water. Probably just let my pen take me where it wants to. Okays, bye for now!

One last thing, please review!


	2. A Secret Slips Out

**A/N:** I hope you guys are enjoying this, because I'm enjoying writing it. If there is anything you would particularly like to see, tell me. I'll put it in if I can. Thanks!

Remember: Peace, Love and be a Marauder! I mean, why wouldn't you be? (Sev included!)

Disclaimer: I only wished I owned Harry Potter but sadly I do not so do not bother me about it. **sticks out tongue** The idea for this was taken from both Jazz and Severitus. And from Severitus, I borrowed the concept of the Serpent's Children, I just renamed them and didn't use a tattoo, or any mark for that matter. So, technically, that's not mine either. Please do not get mad.

Chapter 2- _A Secret Slips Out_

(Albus's point of view)

I sigh and sit heavily in the chair behind my desk. Three days, and not a word. Three days. I'm not certain how much more I can take, this is beginning to grate even on _my_ nerves!

It has been three days since Severus left for his Death Eater meeting. He hadn't known what it was about or what would occur while he was there; a complete and total surprise. My son does not care for surprises.

Yes, I did call him my son and for a very good reason. He is. Severus Atticus Dumbledore (Snape), born on October first in 1964. It was a lovely little cottage we had lived in, Seleyna, Severus and I. Nothing but open land, fields of the most colorful flowers and a sparkling beach. Quite a picturesque setting wouldn't you say? It was, and one I find I can no longer return to. My memory no longer holds the picture that I have painted for you. What I see is dark land, scorched fields and a beach with its water tainted red. Surprised? You would view the place as such if you thought of the deaths that occurred there. My wife, her glistening silver hair and dark blue eyes, darker than my own. When Severus was little and he would become angry his eyes would become that color always a fascinating transformation to me. But I am sidetracking myself, an accusation I usually place on Severus. He does seem to have the gift of drawing the conversation away from subjects he does not wish to discuss. And I think I know where he got it! Me of course for I am doing so now. But to what I was thinking of before. Seleyna and I had been together for many years, half a century in fact. The thought of children had long ago left my thoughts but certainly not Leyna's so one day she proposed that would should try for one. I was astounded, flabbergasted but happy all at once. A child of my own, something I had not realized I had wanted. Until then. Ten months later we were graced with the most precious child, one we christened Severus. Why Severus you ask? I'm not certain, but we loved the name at the time and I still do.

For four wonderful years we lived in relative peace in our little haven, tucked away from the troubles of the outside world. A peace that was never meant to last as the troubles broke down our door. I was Headmaster of Hogwarts by then and I loved the job but it was one that placed me at great risk. I was a known fighter against the Dark side that was rising slowly at the time therefore I was seen as a threat that needed to be neutralized. There were several attempts on my life, none successful obviously before they realized I was not the one they should go after. My family became their target. Why such an idea had never occurred to me still astonishes me to this day; it should have been obvious. Not to this old man, I'm afraid. 

It was a cold and soggy night, ideal setting for what was to happen. I was out at a meeting with the Order of the Phoenix. We still worked in conjunction with the ministry at that time and the meetings could drag on for hours. But I stayed, content with the knowledge that Leyna and Severus were safe at home. It was a false hope. I'm not sure what made me realize what was wrong but it was clear: I had to get home, right then! I had stood, swaying on my feet, ignoring the concerned murmurs from the rest and apparated from the building. That has always been a subject of great controversy, one could not apparate inside the Ministry's anti-apparation wards. Yet I did. Even I do not know how and no one dares to ask for they fear the memories it will bring to the surface. Ever wonder how I received the reputation for being a bit mad? It is because for a short time I was, mad as a hatter. It only lasted the length of my conversation with the Minister at the time but still, impressions such as that one do last.

Perhaps I am getting ahead of myself, I do not wish to leave you behind. I appeared in front of my home and burst through the door. I could only imagine what I would have looked like had their been nothing amiss, rather foolish I'm sure. There was something amiss however, greatly amiss. My wife.....her warm presence that usually filled our home with such joy was absent. The air around me was stale with a hint of....dare I say death? Merlin I had hoped I was wrong but the sinking feeling in my heart told me I was not. Blindly I ran up the stairs, strange voices attracting my attention and steering me in the direction of my son's room. Anger boiled within my chest, darkening my eyes to nearly black. Not my son! I did not even touch the door, it burst open on its own with a resounding bang!-that startled the three men. They had Severus by the throat, his ivory skin a nasty shade of red as they squeezed him harder. What happened next I am not entirely certain, either I was too angry or I've simply blocked it from my thoughts. The next thing I remember I was holding a sobbing Severus in my arms and the three men were (more or less) still alive, though unconcious. I lurched to my feet and stumbled from the room, encountering my wife's mangled body as I left. I had to protect Severus, that was my duty now. Appearing and reappearing in several different places I finally settled before a dark manor. 

Snape manor; yes, I am related to them, though distantly. They are a proud family, though this generation had yet to produce an heir. It was the only option I could see, I only hoped they would agree. As it turned out I was correct, and thankfully so. They seemed pleased to be receiving little Severus (who had fallen asleep). It was with heavy heart I placed him under a memory charm and altered his features to resemble those of his new 'parents'. I gave him one last kiss good-bye and left, knowing I would not see him again for six years or more. I should have realized what they would do to him, I often think I was too grief stricken from what had occurred to notice, but I still should have known. 

When I became Severus's confidant, I postion I was flattered to have (Severus rarily opens up to anyone, even me), I was eventially able to weasil out of him what his home life had been like. It was all I could do as he had related the tale not to gather him into my arms and choke out that I was sorry. They had beat him, God damn Salazar and Jasmine, they had beat my son! It was with great difficulty that I worked through those memories with him, assuring him that was not what a family was supposed to be like. He had smiled on several occasions (very small smiles but smiles none the less), and shook his head when he accidentally let slip the word 'father' when he was talking to me. I think he thought it as some sort of insult but to the contrary my heart soared with pride, a pride I could not allow myself to show.

As to another question I'm sure you're dying to ask no, no one knows of Severus's continued existance. They all believe (as I wish them to) that he perished that night along with Leyna. I could not risk it, there was too much at stake, namely my son's life. The staff all remember the bright-eyed little boy that used to run down the halls looking for 'daddy' or peeking into classes. My child has an insatcable curiousity, the natural thirst for learning. He could never resist an oppurtunity to learn something new, perhaps what landed him in so much trouble later in life. The other professors had all cared for the child as a fond nephew and it broke their hearts when he was gone. Now all that exists is the ghostly spectral that haunts their memories. 

I did not return to Hogwarts for nearly six months, it may have been longer I'm not certain. They had treaded lightly around me, all of them, afraid the slightest thing would drive me over the deep end. I'm sure I worried them, coming back as cheerful as I had. I had finally contented myself with the knowledge that I would see my son again, I only had to be patient. There were a few slips, the name Severus dropped by accident or telling of the last Christmas he had spent there when he'd given all of the teacher's different gifts, each one he had made on his own. If I was present when this 'slip' occurred, my reaction never differed. My eyes would darken, becoming almost black, and I would bite out some retort or harsh remark before exiting. Yes, it was not exactly fair, but who said Slytherins had to be fair? The memories of that part of my life were painful, and still are even after all these years.

When Severus had come to Hogwarts I had been overjoyed, but only for an instant. The state of my young son had shocked me greatly. I guess I expected too much. I had wanted my bright-eyed little one back, but upon seeing him, I knew I never would. Sorted into Slytherin, an event I still have mixed feelings about. Yes I am a Slytherin, but what would that house do to my child? It was evident later exactly what it did to him, drove him to Voldemort. I wish I could have been there more for him, given him the support that I knew he needed. I had, in any way I could think of. Yet he still went to Voldemort.

It is my fault, all of it. I take full responsibility. I should have protected him more, given him more advice, given him.....more. Of not just one thing but everything. I always found it strange that when he needed to talk to someone, he always sought me out. I'm sure he found it equally strange that the Headmaster of the school would be willing to listen to every one of his little problems. I was glad to really, it allowed me to know my son better. There was only one subject he never spoke of though I know it plagued his thoughts constantly. The rise of Voldemort. 

The majority of his house was joining, including one his best friends, Lucius Malfoy. What could I do? I tried to show him what Voldemort did, but evidently he needed to see it for himself. By his graduation I knew that he was one of them, that I had lost my child to the Dark Lord for the second time. I did not intend to give up, I fought tooth and nail to keep him safe, though he does not know it. When a mysterious stranger appears to take care of you then disappears again without a trace, you normally do not tell your friends about it. It was only a year before he returned to me, back into my arms. The tale he had told was a chilling one: Voldemort had demanded he make his first kill, to prove his loyalty. He couldn't do it, nor could he take the torturing of helpless souls any longer. The very idea had revulsed him but he had endured it, instinctively knowing there was no way to turn back. Until he remembered me. It was he who suggested that he spy, not I. I almost forbad it, but the defiant glint of steel that overode the disgust he felt for himself and what he was that shined from his eyes swayed my decsion. He had to do it, to live with himself, he had to do it. 

So we prepared an elaborate plan. I would disguise myself as a muggle and under the watchful eye of Voldemort he would 'torture' me to 'death'. Effective plan that one, and it succeeded. He told Voldemort that he had recently accepted the postion as Potions Master at Hogwarts so that he could 'spy' on me. The Dark Lord had loved that plan, one I had devised myself.

And Harry....God, I have a grandson. I had never thought of grandchildren. I knew Severus had cared for Lily while he was in school, though it was not the type of love that would produce a child. No, his eyes were on another Gryffindor, a young girl by the name of Serenity Winter. Serenity and her twin Kitiara came from the States, transfered here in their first year out of Roanoke Academy of Magic Arts and Muggle Studies. Even then, there was a spark between the shy Seri and my equally shy Severus. They were perfect for one another, complenting the other in everyway, and by fifth year they were officially, from what I could garner from the school's scuttlebutt, a couple. I was overjoyed; my child had found happiness. It was not to last, by Christmas they were torn apart and to this day I do not know why. Severus doesn't like to speak about that subject but from I could get from him, Seri and he were still friends. 

But that Harry should be the product of Severus and Lily....I know it pangs him greatly to have compromised his friend in such a way. At least she had agreed to....well, she agreed. But the mere thought that he might be.....Severus's....Had I known this when Lily and James had died I would have tested him for his true parentage. If only I had known of the possibility....but it does not do well to dwell on the past. I wish to bring the boy here and inform him of his birth and his family but to do so I must tell Severus who I truly am. Rather hard to do when he is not here. Another sigh escapes my lips. Where are you, Severus, my child?

(End of Dumbledore's point of view)

Harry stirred the boiling liquid slowly with the wooden spoon. He had stolen the chicken soup, spoons and two bowls from the kitchen downstairs. They needed to eat something, and this seemed like the best solution. He had a feeling that Snape couldn't stomach anything more potent. The man had yet to awaken, fully anyhow. He did talk, when delirium gripped him. The boy had listened and jotted down everything he had heard, because it had mostly been about the Death Eater meeting. Nothing he heard was good: Voldemort was on the move and in a big way.

"Voldemort....." Harry's head snapped up as Severus began to moan in his nightmare-laden sleep and stir. The student moved silently to his bedside and grabbed the journal on the table, pen at ready. The pain lines around the man's eyes deepened and he clenched his fists. 

"Damn him, not Lily...." The pen dropped from Harry's hand, shock dominating his expression. His....mother? What was she doing at a Death Eater meeting? The journal forgotten, the student reached hesitantly for the man's temples. Wasn't this an invasion of privacy? But it did involve his mother, didn't that give him a right? Biting his lip he finally touched the other's temples. Immediately he found himself sucked from his own psyche and into the Potions Master's. Harry looked around curiously as he drew level with Snape. The last place he ever wished to be was here but now that he was he had better make the best of it. Before them were seven women kneeling, though the boy had a feeling that it was not of their own free will. Voldemort was marching back and forth in front of them, lifting one's head by the hair every now and then, and nodding as if satisfied. The last he did this to possessed red hair and when her head was lifted Harry recognized those green eyes. It was his mother. 

"Yes, they will do nicely. Snape," The Dark Lord turned to the silent man, "You may have the first pick, choose well." For only a fraction of a second the man hesitated before he strode forward in his silent manner. To Harry's horror he jerked Lily up and swept her off her feet. Voldemort's smile sent shivers down Harry's spine. 

"Very well, and I expect a child." 

"Yes, my lord," the Potions Master's voice was whispery and he glided up the stairs. Harry scrambled to follow and soon found himself inside a bedroom. Snape gently laid the woman on the soft downy bed and drew out his wand. 

"Ennervate." The red-haired woman stirred and sat up. When the Death Eater came into her view she scrambled to get away, searching for her wand. 

"Lily, calm down, it's me, Severus." The woman paused for a moment, uncertainty written on her face. 

"Severus?" The Death Eater nodded and removed his mask. Harry was surprised to see Snape so.....different. The persistant scowl was absent and worry were the only lines that creased his young face, not anger. Relief washed over Lily's expression but it was only temporary.

"What happened? Sev, why did they capture me?" The man collapsed into the nearest chair and ran a hand through his untamable hair.

"Voldemort wanted Muggle-born witches with extraordinary powers to use to breed him an army of special Death Eaters, Immolo Serpentigena or Death's Serpents, to flood the schools with. It is his plan to take over Hogwarts." Lily closed her eyes and shook her head. This couldn't be happening. Harry waited tensly, wondering what could possibly happen next. 

"Will he know if you haven't....." the red-haired witch trailed off, the other knowing what she meant. Miserably, the spy nodded. Silence fell over them as sounds from the rooms around them penetrated the stone walls. Harry's stomach curdled from what little he could hear. Finally, Lily drew in a resolute breath and stretched out on the bed. 

"Then we must." The Potions Master's head snapped up and he stared at her in confusion.

"What?" 

"We must do it. Severus, I will not endanger your postion as a spy and James will understand, I hope. You have been working with him for the last several months and he knows you would do nothing to harm me. There is more at stake here than my reputation. Please, Severus, do this for everyone you will help in the future." Snape, and Harry as well, gaped at the woman in disbelief. How could she ask such a thing of him? Severus thought as stayed in his spot. 

"Lily, I can't. I could never do that to you even if it did end my career as a spy, I can't do that to you." The woman's green eyes flashed and she sat up. 

"Severus, you must! You have to protect others as you are protecting me. I could have gone to the others but you didn't allow that. Severus, you must." Harry stared at his mother. How could she ask such a thing of this man? To....sleep with her? That would be like him sleeping with Hermione, he just did not view her in that fashion. The very thought made him want to retch. He didn't blame Snape for refusing, he doubted he could do what the woman was asking had he been in the Potions Master's postion. So caught up in his thoughts was he that he failed to notice the man move. He only realized that he had done so when he was standing over the bed. 

'Oh Merlin,' Harry thought as he Snape lowered himself onto the bed, 'He's going to.....' The scene around he swirled out of existance in a wash of color. He suddenly found himself in the Headmaster's sitting room, the one that ajoined his office. He had only visited the place once but it could have been no other place. Snape and the Headmaster were seated before the fire, a chessboard between them. Harry, still reeling from the emotions from the last memory sat down with a loud 'thunk!'- on the floor. The sound did not seem to penetrate the memory as the two neither turned nor spoke. For some time the three sat until the student began to muse over the point of this particular memory following the other. The Potions Master finally reached out and moved his bishop diagonally seven spaces.

"Checkmate, I win again, Albus." The Headmaster, unperturbed by the loss, merely chuckled. 

"As I have a feeling you always will, Severus." The other smirked.

"Not always. You are a very devious old man, Albus Dumbledore, and even I can not always predict what you will do." The Headmaster's chuckle grew to a full blown laugh. 

"Nor I you, Severus. And I prefer it that way." The Potions Master sighed. 

"As do I, I guess."

"How were classes today?" The tone was innocent but the question earned him a sharp glance from the Potions professor. 

"Fine; and if this is going to lead into another discussion on how horrible treat I my students, let's just leave it where it is." Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes, we seem to have had many of these talks, especially lately. There is one question, however, that in all of those talks I have failed to ask. _Why_ do you treat your students in such a hateful manner, especially Harry? You were such good friends with Lily, I would hardly think you would treat her son in such a manner." Harry leaned forward, intrigued. How would the man answer? It would most assuredly give him a better insight into the Potions Master's behavior. Again there was that sharp glance, one that told Snape this subject would not depart so easily. Then perhaps a distraction? Snape donned his most frightening sneer.

"Only a Gryffindor would have the courage to ask such a question," he claimed boldly with a smirk. The Headmaster's amused laugh caught both the student and professor off guard.

"Oh, Severus, I wasn't a Gryffindor. I was a Slytherin." It was fortunate Harry was sitting down or he would have fallen down. Snape looked to be about as pole-axed as he.

"W-what?" the man managed to stutter, stunning Harry further. He'd never seen his professor at a loss for word's before. With a smirk that reminded the student uneeringly of the Potions Master, Dumbledore summoned his old school trunk to the room. It was quite decrepted, having seen so many years of wear and tear, but the faded Howarts coat of arms was unmistakable. The Headmaster gently unlatched the rusted lock and lifted the lid, it creaking in protest from years of disuse. He rumaged briefly through its contents before apparently locating what he'd been searching for. From the trunk's dark depths he withdrew the familiar, neatly folded, black robes of the school uniform. Pinned to it were a Prefect's badge as well as the badge of the Head Boy. What drew both Harry's and Snape's attention was the tie and vest. They were green and silver. Both gazed at the Headmaster with identical disbelieving looks. Dumbledore was unfazed and banished the trunk back to his room after replacing the robes. 

"There, you see? Not all Slytherins turn out badly, though I could never figure out why Dippet asked me to be the Head of Gryffindor. Perhaps so I could see how they lived, though I'm not for certain," the man continued to ramble on to fill the silence until Snape drummed up the courage to ask him an important question.

"What was your great ambition?" The Headmaster beamed at him.

"To rid the world of evil. I wanted to fight, help people in any way I could. I earned a reputation for sticking up for the 'little guy' while I was in school." The Potions Master nodded, not surprised. Dumbledore had probably been liked by all the houses, despite the rivalries. 

"But," Dumbledore continued. The Potions Master grimaced.

'Uh oh.'

"We are getting off subject. I'll ask again: Why do you treat your students the way you do, especially Harry?" The Potions Master squirmed uncomfortable in his seat and did not meet the other's eyes.

"Albus, do you remember when all of those witches were kidnapped about fifteen, sixteen years ago?" Dumbledore, thinking this was another ploy to pull them off topic, nodded tentively.

"All too well." Snape was definitely not meeting the Headmaster's eyes Harry decided and had a feeling why.

"Lily was among them." The Headmaster's eyes widened slightly but he showed no other reaction.

"Why did you not tell us?" Snape shifted in his chair, staring into the fire so he would not have to look at the other. Harry felt a wave of great sympathy. It must have been difficult to admit what had happened, especially to Dumbledore. 

"Because I was the one that chose her." It was bitten out with double the customary harshness and Harry cringed. Dumbledore did not. 

"You, Severus? But then, could Harry be.....?" Snape's eyes snapped up and blazed with a sudden ferocity.

"No! He's not mine! He's too much like James to me mine," he stated firmly. The young boy healer's head whirled as that thought hit him. He might have been Snape's son, it could have happened. The very thought was, strange to say the least.

"Have you ever tested that theory, Severus?" The Potions Master's certainty faltered there and Harry stared at him. He'd never tested the theory? Why?

"No."

"Why?" Snape squirmed more uncomfortablly.

"Maybe I was afraid that....he might be mine. I can't care for a child, Albus, I don't know how to be a father." The Headmaster leaned forward and placed a hand over the Potions Master's in comfort. 

"You would make a wonderful father, Severus, never doubt that. Now, let's go to the dungeons." He stood, leaving the Potions Master blinking in confusion.

"Why?" Dumbledore headed out the door.

"Because we are going to test your theory. I want to know for certain and I think it would do you a great deal of good to know as well." Amidst the professor's protests, the Headmaster traveled to the darkest part of the castle. Harry jogged behind them, not knowing what else to do. All thought except that he had to be there for the test had left his mind, even the fact that he should leave Snape's psyche soon. 

The test was a short, performed using a bit of his blood and a potion the professor had brewed. Harry could see the man's hands shaking as he dropped the bloodstained cloth into the cauldron. As the last ingredient was added the potion exploded. Harry covered his eyes and turned away. He heard a gasp and a thump as something hit the floor, enticing his curiousity enough to look back. He gasped as well, knowing why the Potions Master was currently out cold on the floor. Before him were two ghostly figures. One was of Lily, his mother. The other was his father, Severus Snape.

Harry drew out of the man's mind with a snap and fell back on to the floor. It was several seconds before the world ceased to spin and he could open his eyes. They were immediately engulfed by Snape as he lay before him, moaning softly. He pulled himself to his knees and crawled to the edge of the bed, peering at the man's face. It seemed unreal that this man was his.....he swallowed.....father. After all he had done to him, the way he'd been treated by him; this man sired him. He layed his head against his arms and continued to watch the rhythmic rise and fall of the broad chest. Would the Potions Master ever have known that he had a son if Dumbledore had not forced him to perform the test? Likely not; Snape was stubborn but the Headmaster was even more so.

It was strange, he should be mad, furious at the man, yet he was not. Perhaps it was witnessing what had happened and what emotional after-effects it had caused tempered that response. Certainly he could not be mad at his.....father, even if Snape never meant it to be that way. He had not wanted to harm Lily, he had only protected her, at a great risk to his own position.

His eyes drooped. No, he had to stay awake, there was so much to think on. But the demands of an over-taxed body would not be denied and he drifted off to sleep. Unconsiously, one of his hands reached to grip the Potions Master's, holding it tightly within its own.

***

"POTTER!!!" Was the first sound Snape heard as he conscious mind drifted to the surface. Off to his right he heard a violent string of curses, ones even he had never heard, and the clink of a glass bottle against wood. Cracking open an eye, he peered blurrily at the unfocused blob of dark color moving toward the door. He tried to call out, but his vocal cords refused to participate. There was a click of the door being shut and muffled voices downstairs. Pulling himself to a more upright position, he pressed his ear against the wall and strained all his senses to hear what was going on. The muffled voices had raised to shouting and there was the sudden tinkling of broken glass followed by the thud of a falling body. One voice in particular, a man's by the sound of it, rose above the rest as he yelled incoherently. 

Snape was confused, what was going on? Where was he for that matter? Wait, hadn't the man shouted 'Potter'? Could that mean that he was still at Privet Drive? But, why? His attention was diverted from these questions as the sound of thunderous thumps followed by cries of pain permeated through the thin wall. The Potions Master sensed something was amiss, was someone being hurt? Could it be....Potter? No, not Potter. He's likely treated like royalty here, the Slytherin didn't doubt that. 

The sounds downstairs had quieted and he now heard soft, uneven footsteps approaching the room. Snape eased himself back down and closed his eyes to mere slits. The door creaked open, the flood of light from the hall obscuring the figure that stood just inside it. It was only for a moment as the door quickly closed and the figure stumbled towards the end of the bed. Snape's eyes followed, wishing for any illumination so he could see who his keeper was. His wish was granted as a hand switched one the lamp. The Potions Master managed to stifle a gasp, but it was a close thing. Leaning heavily against the table, with blood streaming down his back, was his son Harry.

Maybe now was a good time to start doubting.

***

Pain, oh God, the pain. Breathing even hurt damnit! His mind circled around the thought of getting to his potions, at least there he could find relief. Vernon had finally had the strength to 'deal' with him today. It was a time Harry had been dreading and had hoped that he could get the professor out of the house before it happened. The man was in no shape to defend himself and if Vernon suddenly decided to take out his frustrations on the helpless wizard....well, Harry wouldn't allow that. He'd take what that bastard of an Uncle dished out to save the other from it. He had to. Leaning heavily against the wall he pushed open the door and slipped inside. Almost there, just had to get to the desk. It was a tremendous fight just to stay on his feet, the thought of having to walk any farther was daunting, but he was so close. Taking a deep breath, ignoring the pain that caused, he pushed himself, stumbling, toward the bed. He caught the end of it and pushed off again to the desk. If his thoughts had not been clouded by the pain he felt he might have sensed the intense black gaze following his every move. He ran into the desk with a grunt of pain and switched on the light. Ah, there it was. Grabbing the dark red potion, he popped the cork out and downed all of it in one gulp. He shuddered, that particular one wasn't exactly tasty, and then sighed as numbness replaced the pulsing throb of his back. He pulled two mirrors from the desk and placed them so he could see his back. A grimace; damn, Vernon'd really done a number on him this time. The potion would take care of the cuts but that would take at least another hour to take effect. Until then he'd have to be extra careful not to touch them. A glance at the clock, time to give the Potions Master his medicine. Taking another bottle from the group he walked to the bed. He knelt on the floor and slid an arm under the other's shoulders to lift him up. As he was bringing the bottle to the Potions Master's lips, green eyes met black. 

***End of chapter***

A/N: This actually wasn't supposed to end here, but if I don't want to wait another two weeks just to try to get it up, I better get it done now. I have no clue when the next part will be out because I need to finish the chapter on Gold and Silver, Fire and Ice, and that takes precedence over this one. That, and I don't know what's going to happen next chapter. Anyhoo, thanks for the reviews!

Remember: Peace, Love, and be a Marauder! I mean, why wouldn't you be? (Sev included!)


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